The Victorious
by Celinarose
Summary: Some of the Light Side consider if there were any winners in the war after all.


It was Neville who noticed her sitting quietly on the side, away from all the celebrations. He frowned. She, if anyone, had a reason to celebrate. He kissed Hannah on the cheek and whispered that he would be back, before wading through the crowds. When he got to her, she looked up from her drink as he sat down.

"You should be out there with everyone else," he urged.

She shook her head.

"I'm alright here." Her voice definitely did not make it sound like she was celebrating.

"We won the war, Hermione. It's over!" Neville exclaimed. "Everyone is safe now."

She laughed a bitter laugh that took him by surprise.

"Do you really think everybody is?" she asked, quietly.

Neville furrowed his brow. He looked back at the crowd of laughing, dancing witches and wizards, and his mind went back to the stark contrast with the battlefield, strewn with the injured and the dead. The war had brought up old demons for everyone; demons that they, as children had no idea how to fight. So they had grown up, far too quickly.

He thought about the Janus Thickey Ward and his parents, and suddenly, he began to wonder if she was right, if they had lost far too much to call it a victory, and if they'd ever be able to fix it.

He noticed Hannah was heading his way, and quickly blinked away the tears, but when she came up to him and hugged him, he realised she'd seen them anyway.

"I was thinking of leaving early," she said. "Maybe we could visit St Mungo's before we go home?"

She then turned to Hermione. "You could come along too, if you want," she added with a smile.

Neville noticed Hermione's gaze wandering to find Harry and Ron enjoying themselves in the crowd.

"Okay," she answered.

It was warm, when they stepped outside, but something in the air made Neville shiver. Maybe it was the remnants of the horrors of the final battle. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

They were all rather quiet as they walked to the apparition point and then into the hospital. It was almost an eerie silence.

The assistant Healer led them to his mother's bed. Neville's lip was quivering as he approached her. Surely something would have changed now, that it was all over? She must be better, mustn't she?

"Mum?" he asked softly. He noticed that she was wearing her favorite blouse instead of the usual hospital gown, and wondered if that meant she was celebrating too. She turned to look at him, her gleaming eyes staring blankly at his face.

"We won," he said. She kept gazing at him, clearly not understanding anything he said, just the way she had been doing for the past eighteen years. It still hurt just as much it had the first time, when he had realised that his own mother did not recognise him.

The tears that had been threatening to fall for the past year, that he had suppressed while leading the DA against the Carrows, that he had pushed away while killing Nagini, that he had held back when he saw the cold, lifeless bodies of those that had been his friends, finally rolled down his cheeks.

Hermione laid a comforting arm on his shoulder. Her face betrayed that she knew the pain he felt, though how she could, Neville didn't know.

"What if we can't ever make it right? Any of this? The people we lost, the time we suffered and all the scars..." Neville whispered.

Hannah and Hermione remained quiet.

Neville looked over at the bed where his father sat, oblivious to everything else except the strawberry he was eating. The little fruit seemed to occupy the whole of his attention, and he didn't even glance at his wife or son. Neville sighed.

Bellatrix Lestrange was dead. She had died in an instant, struck by a spell. And yet, the terrible pain she had caused would live for a long time, preventing him from ever really knowing his parents. It hardly seemed fair to call it a win.

As they were walking out of the hospital, Neville pondered about the last time Hermione had spoken about her parents. He couldn't remember. It must have been before their Seventh Year, before she left to hunt for the Horcruxes.

"How are your parents?" he asked, and her face fell immediately. He regretted the question, though he was still curious. Had something happened to them?

"I don't know," she replied. Hannah raised an eyebrow at this.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"I cast a memory charm on them before we went to the forest. They don't remember they have a daughter, or anything about magic. They think they are a happy couple who live in Australia."

Hannah gasped, while Neville frowned.

"I-I'm sorry," he began, but she shook her head.

"It's not your fault. I should have thought of something better, but in my panic, I just…"

Hermione was completely taken aback by Hannah suddenly ensconcing her in a hug. Neville walked over to them and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. Hermione's lips curved into a small smile as she laid her head on her friends' shoulders.

Neville knew they looked utterly ridiculous, standing like that in the middle of the lane, but it certainly seemed like something they all needed; just a few moments where they could simply be happy that they just _were_ , and not worry about who had won or what they lost in that terrible game they had been forced to play.

* * *

 _ **Notes: Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 12**_

 _ **Position: Beater 1**_

 _ **Team: Kenmare Kestrels**_

 _ **Prompt: Write about two characters in a friendship (platonic) relationship.**_

 _ **Characters: Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom**_

 _ **Optional Prompts: 5 ((food) strawberry), 13 ((object) blouse), 14 ((word) fix)**_

 _ **Post-canon, may be slightly AU in some respects.**_


End file.
